17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Xavier

T here was something almost serene about being at the house. Somehow, being so far away from the place where people had tried to kill me—again — it was easy to pretend that things had never changed, that nothing had ever happened between us. The only reason I knew things were different was because there were still holes in my memory, moments I couldn't recall. After the last episode I'd had, I refused to try to force it. There was every chance there were parts of myself that I would never get back, and I had to be okay with that.

Honestly, who really wanted to remember what it felt like to die? Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that I hadn't been able to recall it. Maybe I just needed to look at it like the gift it was and move on with my life, to live in the present.

Live with what I'd been given back for whatever reason fate had decided to give me another chance.

Axel was so peaceful beside me, his hand stretched out toward me even in his sleep. His face scrunched slightly when I moved, but he didn't wake as I pushed myself from between the sheets and silently padded to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. The only thing I recognized was the bright green circle of color around the edge of my eyes. I wondered if it reminded Axel of everything he'd lost—everything I would never be again—whenever he looked at me.

I wondered if it was easier to see me like this instead of who I'd been. If the last memory burned into his mind was a dead man, maybe Marshall Lister was easier on the eyes.

I couldn't imagine how that must have felt for him to find me dead, unable to do anything about it.

I couldn't imagine what I would have done if it had been him.

No, that wasn't true.

I knew exactly what I would have done—I would have burned down the entire world and every person in my path until someone was lucky enough to get off a shot that put me down. I would have joined him one way or the other.

This house, though, this place… it was peace—it wasn't death and bullets and whatever had torn us apart. It was the memory of sweet moments. It was pieces of myself that I'd wanted to give to him, a life that could have been so much easier if we'd been allowed to live it.

They were moments that seemed etched into my memory like they'd been there all along, even if they were coming to me in waves that were almost overwhelming. It was like a picture in black and white suddenly springing into color. Every moment with him had been so vibrant, had made me feel so alive when I'd just been going through the motions of mimicking a person before that.

He'd made me feel so much.

I could see him—I could see us. I could see how much I'd loved him, even though I wasn't sure what to do with the emotions that were almost so intense they were overwhelming me.

I let out a soft sigh and turned my eyes back to the bedroom like I was drawn by strings. He didn't have to say anything, I'd almost felt him looking at me, felt the way that he wanted me back in bed with him even though he hadn't uttered a word. I brushed my fingers along the birthmarks littering my chest and stomach one more time, then turned back to the bedroom and crawled across the sheets.

He let me straddle him, let me run my hands along the length of his bare chest, but I watched his eyes drop to the same marks I'd been touching before. The pained expression that crossed his features made something in my stomach clench, but it was his fingers trailing the same pathway mine had that made me sit up.

"It's okay," I said carefully, because I wasn't sure what he was thinking, what he was feeling. I didn't know what image he saw behind his eyes while brushing those red marks. "I can't remember it. Maybe I don't need to remember it." I tried to smile, because I could almost feel the memories dancing on the edge of my mind, threatening to spill up if I lingered on them. "I do remember all the things we used to do in this bed, though. I bet we could come up with a few new things if we tried hard enough."

Was it unfair to try to distract him with sex when he was obviously having an emotional moment? Maybe. Did I care if it was unfair?

No, I really didn't.

It seemed like my words almost worked. He glanced up at me for a second, and the small tug of a smile that pulled at his mouth blossomed warmth across my skin. But then his eyes dropped back to his fingers, and he moved from the obvious echo of bullet wounds to the slash that looked like it was made by a knife.

"I don't want you to remember it either. I just…" He shook his head, and I brought my hand up, threading our fingers together. "I'd kill him a thousand times over for you if I could."

Him .

I'd never actually asked, and I was half afraid to now, but this was something that happened after I'd died. It couldn't hurt me, right?

"Him?"

He looked guilt-stricken for a moment, but he finally whispered it in a pained voice. "My father."

I paused. Axel's dad had arranged my death?

That…

"Somehow, that's not as shocking as it should be." When he just stared at me with wide, guilty eyes, I added. "He'd tried to kill me before, remember? Twice. He didn't like me much."

Axel just kept staring.

"It's not your fault your dad was an asshole, Sunshine. But I'm glad you killed him for me."

"I did," he whispered, and his eyes dropped to my chest again. "If you ever see a birthmark that looks like someone flayed alive… well..." He paused. "Fuck, is that how it works? Do you think everyone has a birthmark from the way they died?"

I arched my brow and made a show of looking him up and down.

"I don't see any marks on you."

"There's a lot of ways for people to die that don't leave a mark on the skin." He said it, then something else crossed his features.

Fuck, was he feeling poetic? I dropped down before he had a chance to tell me he'd died the day I had and pressed my mouth to his.

It wasn't that I didn't want to hear it—it's that I wasn't sure if I could deal with feeling guilty over something that I couldn't even remember… and I realized a part of me did .

I felt bad that I'd left him.

I felt bad that he'd been alone for so long while I'd been caught in some limbo, while I'd been… Marshall Lister.

And beneath that guilt, something ugly twisted in my chest.

What if he'd met Marshall? Would he still have recognized some echo of me in his smile, in the way he laughed?

Would he have fallen in love with Marshall if he'd had a chance?

As much as I'd kissed him to cut off his tragic poetry before, I pushed away from him now so I could search his face for answers to a question I hadn't even asked aloud, that he couldn't have known I was thinking.

"What's wrong?" I didn't have to say anything for him to see it written on my face, but now that he'd asked, I didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want to say a damn thing.

I didn't want to know if he thought it was a possibility, even though it wasn't fair for me to be upset at the prospect of him falling in love with a different version of myself—a softer version.

A safer version.

Except that version was destined to die, too, wasn't he?

"Nothing." I cut off my own thoughts. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just… hungry." I pushed off him before I had a chance to let myself get lost further in thought, but I softened the sudden abruptness by holding my hand out to him. "Make me breakfast?"

He could tell I was full of shit, obviously, but he was smart enough to let it go. He slipped his fingers into mine and pulled himself up with a soft smile.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

I wanted to have another small bout of amnesia, because now that I'd thought of it, the image of Axel falling in love with a sweeter version of myself wouldn't leave my head.

I was being unfair. At least I knew it, and I tried to compensate for it. There was something about being here, about the domestic sweetness of it all. There was something about the way that Axel seemed so content to exist in a world where there wasn't a threat of violence, a threat of someone hurting either of us. It had felt good before, but now I'd spoiled it with my own thoughts.

That lingering question in the back of my mind that wouldn't go away, that wouldn't leave me alone.

It left me swallowing my words more than once when I wanted to snap, when I wanted to just ask him. When I wanted to tell him why I was having a fight with a literal ghost that he'd never met. It didn't make sense.

And I couldn't make it go away.

I managed to keep it locked in until we were having dinner, and Axel slid a plate across the table for me with a smile.

"I could get used to this, you know?"

I paused, looking up at him while silently telling myself not to ruin this.

"Being here with you. Being safe ." He paused, too, for just a second, like he was waiting to see if his words would spark anything.

Was this another memory that I didn't have access to, another thing that he knew and I didn't?

I wasn't angry at him about that, but the way he was looking at me told me all of my fears weren't completely unfounded, that if a man like Marshall Lister had been sitting across the table from him, he'd just smile and nod and thank him for his dinner.

He'd probably call him honey , and talk about adopting kids and a puppy and putting up a fucking white fence.

Shit.

"I mean, we've never really been safe, have we?" I tried to keep my voice charming, friendly, and I hated that I recognized my tone. It was the same voice I'd used a hundred times when I was pretending to be a person that I wasn't.

When I was trying to fit in.

Fuck .

"There's a first time for everything." He shrugged with a half-smile, but I noticed that neither of us were touching our plates. Could he sense whatever was boiling just beneath my skin? Those emotions that were so twisted and tangled, so amplified by my sudden and newfound ability to feel them even deeper than I had before?

"I mean, for a while. I'm eventually going to have to get back out there, though."

He only paused for a second before he spoke. "What do you mean?"

Ah, that wasn't a mask. That wasn't Axel pretending. I wasn't sure if he really knew how to pretend, and I could see the emotions painted all across his features. The worry, the slight hint of anger, because I had a feeling that he knew exactly what I meant, and he just didn't want to hear it.

I didn't want to say it.

I didn't want to pick this particular fight with him, but apparently, I couldn't control myself.

I didn't need a sudden burst of clarity to know that I'd never known when to shut up.

"I know I look pretty now, Axel, but I can't just be a househusband for the rest of my life. We both know what I'm good at."

I could almost see the pain streak across his face, and a small part of me wanted to take the words back. If I hadn't meant them so much, I probably would have. But the truth was, I did. I couldn't just sit around and do nothing. I couldn't let Axel take care of me for the rest of my life, even though I was more than sure he had the money to do just that.

"Why?"

"Axel—"

"No, wait. I mean why do you have to go back to that ?" He frowned. "There's a million things you could do, Xavier. You're… You have a whole new life. You're a whole new person with a new identity. You could keep yourself safe this time around."

A whole new life.

A whole new person.

Marshall.

Had I somehow predicted that this would happen when I'd woken up in a mood this morning? Or had I manifested it into being because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut?

"I'm not a nine-to-five kind of guy. We both know that."

"It could be different, though. Once we hunt down this company—"

"Who said I want to hunt them down?" I cut him off again. I was apparently really good at that today. I stared at him across the table and felt something in my chest squeeze tight. I refused to do this—I refused to wonder if he wanted me to be someone else. "I don't want to get anywhere near them, Axel. I don't want to be anywhere near a place that might just snuff me out to get their pet scientist back." It came out harsher than I meant, and I couldn't resist driving my point home. "It almost seems like you want him back, too."

He was silent, and if I didn't know him better, I would have taken it as an omission. I could see the emotions as they streaked across his face; hurt ran so deep it nearly etched lines at the corners of his eyes before a white-hot streak of anger chased the pain at its heels and settled in the stern press of his lips.

"You fucking know better, Xavier. I never said that."

"You just did . You want some perfect little pretty thing to keep at home, someone safe." I pushed back from the table abruptly and threw my arms wide. "Newsflash, Sunshine , I'm never going to be safe. I'm never going to be someone who isn't in danger . I'm a killer. It's all I know—it's what I am ."

I felt flush, hot and angry. It was even worse, because a dozen new memories were trying to fly into my mind—all the times we'd fought. How sometimes it was just screaming, how sometimes it came to blows. We were both so physical, so passionate about one another.

It made sense. I knew we'd done it. But now I was feeling it—all of it, all at once.

And somewhere on the heels of that, I was feeling the stabbing insecurity that he'd realized in the time I'd been gone that someone else might have been safer for him.

That some other version of me might have fit better than I did.

Fuck, I couldn't kill myself , or I'd be hunting the asshole down.

But… the pain on his face, the anger? It was too much. It was trying to force more memories to the surface, something that felt so violent and overwhelming that it was strangling me, threatening to leave me dizzy.

"I… Fuck. Fuck this. You want Marshall? Fine. Because I can guarantee he wouldn't want some jackass who spends his time cleaning up after killers ."

Lies. He'd worked for a company that revived killers. He probably would have taken one look at Axel and proposed.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I whirled and headed toward the door, and Axel's voice at my back didn't stop me. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to cool off before I do something we both regret."

I wasn't sure if I was threatening him or trying to spell out that I wanted to kill a man that was already dead, a man whose body I was walking around in. Whatever it was, I knew I had to get out of the room.

We fought—that's what we did. And it wasn't like I hadn't given him a hint of where I was going. He'd find me eventually, if he wanted to.

"Xavier, wait!"

Damn it, I really hoped he wanted to.